Labels
by Drink Sparky Cola
Summary: Sam thinks about who he's been and who he is while trapped alone in a drainage pipe during a storm. Part 7 of 7 posted. Complete!
1. Son

**Labels**

**By Kara G**

It's been awhile since I've written a fanfiction. This is my first Supernatural fanfic—I've got more ideas but who knows if I'll ever write them… Man it feels good to be posting again!

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam thinks about who he's been and who he could have become while trapped in a drainage pipe alone during a storm.

Begun: February 9, 2006

Finished: May 30, 2006

Whether or not we like it, we'll always be subjected to labels.

Geek. Jock. Genius. Freak. Goth. Loser.

We think that when we stop being kids, when we enter the real world, that the labels will disappear, and we won't feel trapped into a definition designated for us, but that doesn't happen.

In life, in the real world, labels don't go away, they just change. They become more definitive, less subjective. They always exist, in some form or another, at any point in our lives.

Husband. Wife. Employee. Businessman. Father. Mother. Lover.

The trick is not to shed yourself of labels, to become someone that cannot be categorized…

No, the trick is not to let those labels bring you down. The best thing you can do in your life is to avoid who you don't want to be, and learn to love what you are.

**Son**

Sam didn't remember anything about his mother.

When he was little, before his dad told him what had killed his mother, and why they hunted, he remembered asking him and Dean relentlessly, _what was she like? Was she pretty? Was she nice?_

The only time he ever got an answer was Dean's simple reply: she loved you very much.

That was it. After awhile, Sam learned not to ask.

Once, when he was 13, their dad had taken Dean and Sam to a theme park. They spent half the day riding roller coasters and go-karts, eating cotton candy and soda until they felt sick, laughing and having fun. It was one of Sam's fondest memories, which were few and far in between. Their father looked _happy_. He smiled and he laughed with them. It was a memory Sam took with him when he left for college a few years later.

It was one of very few memories.

_Stupid Dean._

_Stupid Dean and his stupid superiority complex… always too proud to admit that he could be wrong_…

Sam Winchester muttered incomprehensibly to himself as he picked his way through the muddy field, rain sloshing around his filth-caked shoes.

He supposed he was probably letting the weather—a light but freezing drizzle—reflect his mood to an extent, but he was still angry. Dean was currently searching a factory elsewhere in town, most likely feeling dry, warm and comfortable, three things Sam was not. Still, he wasn't going to _find_ anything there, Sam bemused, mining what little victory he could out of the thought.

They had been investigating their latest case, some sort of lizard-man hybrid that had been supposedly responsible for killing stray dogs over the past few weeks until it culminated in the death of a construction worker. Dean was convinced that the creature was hiding in some cave on higher ground, where it had access to more easy prey, but all the signs told Sam that this creature was living in the sewers, and he tried to tell his brother so, but Dean wouldn't listen to him.

He was just having one of his days—one of his cocky, know-it-all days where he thought he knew everything about hunting, just because he was older and had been doing it for longer. Sam may have been out of touch, but the instincts had slowly returned to him over the months. He wasn't an idiot.

_Idiot… _That was what Sam had called Dean, among other, less savory curses. Somehow their disagreement had devolved into a series of insults and Sam wasn't even sure how it had started anymore.

All he knew was that _somewhere along the way_, Dad had come up.

Dad was always an issue these days. Whether or not they talked about it, the issue of their missing father always hung between them, driving a silent wedge further in the rift that had formed before Sam had left for Stanford. On some days it reminded him of the days before he'd left for college, almost like he'd never left at all…

o-o-o

John Winchester wasn't a bad man. He wasn't a hopeless father either.

He just… had a habit of making bad decisions, decisions that usually led to someone getting hurt. When Sam was little, their dad wouldn't let him hunt. He didn't let Sam hunt for a while, longer than he had waited with Dean, according to his brother. Dean didn't talk about mom, but he talked often about dad, about how different he was before… before their mom died.

Sam loved his father. He fought with him all the time, but he didn't have to dig deep to realize that he loved his father very much—still did, even if he thought it possible that John Winchester was dead now.

It wasn't an easy thing to do—loving him. John made it difficult with the lifestyle he kept for himself and his boys. It was this belief in the hunter's destiny that drove Sam away, pushed him toward a life of simplicity—of _normalcy_. Dad had been angry when Sam said he was leaving, but Sam fought with him over that too, and eventually, he escaped.

He may love his dad, but he'd be damned if he ever found himself agreeing with the man.

o-o-o

Sam heard what appeared to be rushing water further on ahead. Heading toward the sound he saw a large drainage pipe opening up into a murky lake. The concrete pipe extended back until it connected with the sewers. The area was desolate, and at least a hundred yards from the nearest factory. It looked like the area had been in disrepair for some time, evidenced by the construction equipment lying about in piles nearby open sewers.

A rustling sound caught his attention over the rain, and Sam's ears pricked. He made his way, slowly, over to a hole in the ground surrounded by 2 by 4s, an abandoned project. He leaned over and looked in the hole, carefully planting his feet so that he didn't slip and fall in. It was about a twenty foot drop to the concrete floor of the sewer. He didn't see any mystery creatures, but he did notice some scraps and bones lying alongside the walls.

"Jackpot," Sam muttered to himself, grinning and getting down on his knees to get a closer look. He looked around the area, confirming the presence of some sort of animal then he began to stand, intending to go around and enter the sewer from lower ground.

Sam scrambled to his feet, but as he did so, a flash of something furry scampered by below. Startled, the hunter lost his footing and tripped. It was at this moment that the wet and unstable ground started to give way and dirt, mud, and concrete crumbled, taking Sam with it.

o-o-o

When he'd left for college at 18, Sam had felt isolated and alone. It was only a temporary feeling, and it went away after a few weeks, when he started to make friends, but it felt like such a lengthy adjustment. He'd never been away from his father for more than a few weeks, and even years after Sam left him, he still felt that ache of being without someone who had always cared for you, loved you, protected you.

The only thing left for Sam to do was remind himself that he deserved better than the life he'd been given, to barrel past the pain and pursue the life he'd always wanted. John Winchester's opinions could be damned, Sam needed something more from life.

But it never stopped him from feeling guilty.

A few weeks before Dean visited him and Jessica died, sending him on this new road trip to the past, Sam _still_ felt the pangs of loss, the lingering feeling that he was selfish, that maybe, if he'd tried a little harder… he could have been a better son.


	2. Orphan

**Labels**

**By Kara G**

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam thinks about who he's been and who he could have become while trapped in a drainage pipe alone during a storm.

Begun: February 9, 2006

Finished: May 30, 2006

**Orphan**

It was hard for Sam to picture himself as part of a functional family, to picture the mother and the father, the two kids, the white picket fence, the dog in the yard and the big yellow school bus that came to pick you up before school. It was hard for him to imagine any of these things because he never got to experience them. He never had a mother to comfort and coddle him. To teach him lessons about girls and make sure he washed behind his ears.

On his first day of Kindergarten, Dad and Dean had dropped little Sammy off in front of the school and left him on his own. Sam never thought he could be frightened by the thought of school. For months he had been counting down the days until he could finally go this much-talked-about _school_.

And yet, there the feeling was, swirling around in the pit of his stomach as he stared up at the large double doors looming before him.

Inside, all the other kids had their mothers with them. They stayed with their little girls and boys most of the day, helping them adjust to this new change. Only Sam was without a parent to guide him. The teachers paid him a little more attention than the others, but that didn't stop Sam from noticing the inherent differences between his life and those others kids' lives.

On that first day, a blonde haired boy bigger than him came up and asked where his mommy was and Sam had to shrug. 'Don't have one,' he had said.

'Why not?' asked the boy.

'She died when I was a baby.'

'Oh.'

Sam had turned away, feeling this was enough of an explanation, but the other boy was not satisfied with this.

'Why did she die?'

'Dunno.' And it was the truth. Whether he was five years old, or 22 years old, Sam Winchester couldn't give one single reason as to why he never had a mother.

o-o-o

When Sam hit the bottom of the sewer, he recalled a sharp pain in his leg, but then a falling chunk of concrete sought out the back of his head and personally introduced itself, and Sam didn't remember much more after that.

When he came to he was lying in an awkward position on his side, luckily up against the wall and not in the river of sewer water, where he likely would have drowned. Groaning, Sam pushed himself up gingerly, testing out his limbs. His shoulder ached, but it hardly compared to his—

His head… Sam reached an arm up gingerly and felt the back of his head, pulling it away to find blood sticking to it. It wasn't fresh, already matted over his now-filthy hair, so he must have been out for awhile. He had no idea whether or not he had a concussion, but his instincts told him he ought to stay awake anyway, despite the pervasive weariness tugging at his eyelids.

But the most pressing issue that Sam faced was his leg, which was currently pinned below a pile of rocks and chunks of concrete that had accompanied him from the surface. He tried to pull his leg free but only received a throbbing ache that ran the length of his leg for his troubles. He wasn't in a position to free himself, much less possess the strength to do so.

Sam shifted as best he could, pushing himself further up against the wall. He was in the least comfortable position imaginable, but it wasn't like he had any choice.

The sewer wall was cold and damp, and Sam thought he could smell mold, but that was arguably the least of his problems. Right now, he was more concerned with the river of dirty water rising slowly around him as the rainstorm continued, and with how he was going to get back to the surface… that and the memory of the creature he'd seen just prior to the fall, which had suddenly returned to him with startling alacrity.

"God, you can be such an idiot!" Sam groaned aloud to himself, reclining back against the wall again, his wet, matted hair pressed against the hard surface.

He wasn't sure if he was referring to himself or to his brother, who seemed like a convenient scapegoat at the moment. He wouldn't be in this predicament if Dean had just come with him like he'd suggested… but no. Dean had to be the hero all the time. He just _always_ had to be right—about the monster, about hunting, about their father…

The message to come here had been from their dad. Sam had wanted to pursue a haunting in Virginia, but Dean had insisted they come here, and on top of it all, when they got here, they continued to disagree on where to look.

Finally growing frustrated with the repetitiveness of the argument, the two had parted ways on less than pleasant terms. Now Dean was God knows where and Sam… was all alone for miles.

It wasn't the _best_ idea he'd had in awhile…

o-o-o

When Sam was growing up, he'd always seemed to attract women. Dean called this an 'advantage,' and when Sam was little, it wasn't out of the ordinary for Dean to parade him around in public trying to attract girls. He wasn't so sure this was an advantage for himself, though Dean seemed to have benefited.

But it wasn't just girls that were drawn to Sam. Older women always seemed to take a special liking to Sam, as if sensing that he had grown up without a mother. Sam wasn't used to the special treatment, and it startled him when a woman in line at the grocery store would lecture him about eating healthy foods over the snacks he'd had sitting on the conveyer belt, or a waitress would call him 'honey' and give him a few extra strips of bacon.

Whenever a woman gave him that warm smile Sam couldn't help but feel like they suggested a subtle condescension. What made them think that he was alone? He had a father, after all. He wasn't utterly parentless.

But now Sam wasn't so sure he could adhere to that statement. It had been over four years since he'd seen his father, and for the past few months, John Winchester had been missing entirely. It was no secret that Sam feared their dad was dead. Even when he began to send the brothers text messages with those cryptic coordinates, Sam couldn't help but feel that, so long as he wasn't in their sights, John Winchester could at any moment be killed by something supernatural, and taken from Sam's life forever.

Then he truly would be an orphan.

It was funny, he thought, that he couldn't be sure whether or not he really was one. You either have parents or you don't. It isn't possible to be both, right?

Sam wanted to think that it was up to his father, whether or not he decided to be a part of the life his son had chosen for himself. But the truth was that Sam had a decision to make too—whether or not to let the man back in after their mutual abandonment.

The time would come to decide how to define himself.

Until then, when the waitresses smile that warm smile and send him off with a doggie bag of muffins, he'll just have to grin right back and accept the motherly gesture for what it is, even if he doesn't really understand what it all means.


	3. Hunter

**Labels**

**By Kara G**

Thanks for all the reviews guys! I really appreciate it. I hope my story continues to entertain. Four more parts to go after this one.

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam thinks about who he's been and who he could have become while trapped in a drainage pipe alone during a storm.

Begun: February 9, 2006

Finished: May 30, 2006

**Hunter**

It was beginning to get really cold outside. The drizzle had evolved to a steady rain that leaked through the gash in the earth, and below, the water level had risen to mid-thigh. Sam could still see the tops of his legs, but in a few more minutes, they would be completely submerged in the freezing water. He could hardly feel them anymore, they were so numb from cold, but that was probably a good thing, he figured.

He'd already tried yelling for help. He'd hollered for nearly ten minutes, hoping to get someone—_any_one's—attention, but the rainstorm prevented people from being outside, and regardless, he wasn't in a very prominent part of town. He doubted very much that many people would come by the factory building at this time of night, much less peruse the sewers.

"HELLO! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME! Please…"

Still, that didn't stop him from yelling out again in a frustrated and hopeless gesture of desperation. He was cold, and tired, wet and hungry. His leg still hurt, and he was pretty sure he'd broken it, but there was no way of telling in his position.

o-o-o

Sam both loathed and loved being a hunter.

He was pretty sure, over the years, that the loathing outweighed the love. It was years of hospital visits and broken bones, bruised limbs and bloody attacks, pain and arguments and blame—for all three Winchesters—that had sent him packing for college when he turned 18.

He couldn't handle the pain or the pressure anymore. He couldn't handle being thrown into bookshelves by angry demons or having your mind controlled by vengeful spirits anymore. Having never fully understood why he was hunting in the first place, Sam was content to call his childhood experiences just one 'phase' of his life, from which he could move on to the next.

For those four years of his life while he was away at college, he learned, he grew and he became a better person… but that still didn't mean he regretted every thing he learned as a hunter.

On the contrary, there were plenty of benefits to the lifestyle he'd lived for the first 18 years—he learned to fight and to defend himself, he learned to watch his dad and brothers' backs, a strong sense of loyalty. He learned plenty about ghosts and demons and how to defeat them, and learned why it was necessary to know these things.

Sam figured out rather quickly that this was all necessary to survive in the world. The people who were naïve were the ones that died first. Knowledge was survival.

And survival required courage, determination, strength…

o-o-o

Sam had had enough.

If his dad and Dean had taught him anything from hunting, it was that he couldn't just lie around and wait for something to happen. He had to do something to alter his predicament.

Gathering his resolve, Sam pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing at the pain it caused in his right leg when he shifted. Trying to ignore the throbbing, he reached down into the water, almost at his waist, and positioned his hands firmly on either side of the boulder that entrapped him. He pushed with all his might, but it wasn't budging.

Sam was breathing heavily from the exertion. He didn't think it would tire him out so quickly, but the cold and pain were getting to him…

Opting for a different approach, Sam reached down to his leg. His hands disappeared under the murky surface so he maneuvered by touch, finding the area where his leg was trapped up to the calf. He felt the surrounding areas, squinting in the darkness.

There were some smaller rocks around the bigger ones. If he could remove some of those, maybe it would be enough to pull his leg free… Sam closed his fist tightly around a rock the size of a grapefruit. He tugged at it, and to his immense surprise, felt it giving loose. His victory was cut painfully short however, when the movement caused some of the bigger rocks to shift and press further into his injured leg.

Sam cried out in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. Even in the numbing cold he could feel the sharp pains shooting up the length of his leg, all the way to his thigh. His leg was definitely broken, he surmised, and there was no way he was going to pull it free… not without causing himself some serious pain.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone, even though he knew it was a useless gesture. Even before the fall he hadn't been getting a signal in the area. Now that the phone had been submerged in dirty water for over a half hour it was, for all intents and purposes, a paper weight.

Nonetheless he stared at the scrambled faceplate, a sigh escaping his lips, which was interrupted by a sound to his left farther down the tunnel.

Shocked into vigilance, Sam clutched the phone tightly in his left hand and searched around him for a weapon of some kind—_anything_ he could use to defend himself, but all he found was a few chunks of concrete. Picking up the largest one he could find, Sam took a few deep breaths and prepared himself for whatever was approaching from around the corner.

Feeling his heart thunder in his chest, shadows cast themselves on the wall, growing with each step the creature took toward his position. Finally sucking in his breath, the beast rounded the corner and stopped, staring at Sam.

It was a dog.

Some sort of terrier mutt, about two feet tall. It had matted, scraggly fur, and beady brown eyes. The dog cocked its head at Sam curiously, as if to ask what the hunter was doing there. Releasing a sharp breath, Sam looked over at his upraised hand, clutching the hunk of concrete, and sighed, realizing how much he must've looked like an idiot.

_Way to think you could take down Goliath with a rock, David_… Sam thought bitterly of himself, and set the rock down at his side.

o-o-o

But for every one thing Sam valued about being a hunter, there always seemed to be five things he hated about it.

He hated killing things. He wasn't very good at it; he couldn't aim or shoot a gun for years. Dean almost gave up on teaching him—John _had_ given up, eventually. Sam could never keep up with his family, and ultimately the time came when he realized he didn't_ want_ to anymore. He didn't _want_ the lifestyle he'd been living for his entire childhood.

But then Sam got better. He learned how to fight. He learned how to defend, how to kill a demon or banish a ghost. He learned how to be the hunter his father expected him to be, and thoughts of rebellion vanished… until one day, when he was a teenager, and an unwanted trip to the hospital resulted in Sam witnessing the birth of a child in the emergency room.

The mother was so frantic before the baby was born, clearly in distress at the pain. She screamed and cried and alerted the whole emergency room to her plight… but once that baby was born and she held it in her arms, all she could remember was the love she had for it. All her pain vanished, replaced by the light and beauty in her arms, a moment she would remember for the rest of her life.

To be able to defend yourself from a vampire or a werewolf when faced with one in battle was one thing. Sam would fight down to the teeth if need be. He'd fought creatures off with his bare hands before and survived with little physical damage.

… But one day _his_ day would come, the day when he'd hold _his_ son in his hands for the first time, and instead of the joy and beauty that comes with creating life, all he would picture was the blood all over them from the lives he'd taken.


	4. College Boy

**Labels**

**By Kara G**

This one's kinda short—sorry for that, but the next one is longer.

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam thinks about who he's been and who he could have become while trapped in a drainage pipe alone during a storm.

Begun: February 9, 2006

Finished: May 30, 2006

**College-Boy**

When Sam had first gone away to college, he'd been terrified. Luckily, he was one of several hundred equally-terrified freshmen, so he blended in rather well. It wasn't long before he had friends in all his classes, and participated in clubs and events on campus.

He blended in even better in the classroom. Classmates looked up to him, he participated in lengthy academic discussions on history, literature, psychology and more, professors _adored_ him. He was perfect at getting his assignments in on time. He hardly ever went out to party, so there was plenty of opportunity to be a model student.

When he was a freshman, his roommate Billy—a bonafide hero among stoners and potheads—decided to coax Sam out of the dorm room to a large party on campus. Sam got truly drunk for the first time at the party… and spent the rest of the night throwing up all the contents of his stomach in some senior's bathroom while Billy took pictures that he kept up until graduation.

That was about the time Sam decided to limit his wild activities. He hadn't come to Stanford to be a wild and unhinged co-ed… he'd come to learn, to grow. And although leading the college life to the max was all a part of the normalcy he'd craved, his need for knowledge and maturity out-weighed the call of his less-inhibited side, and so Sam spent his four years in hot pursuit of just that.

After all, it was what he'd left his family for in the first place. He'd struggled just to make it to such an expensive college as Stanford. Sam thanked God every day for the full-ride scholarship one of his high school professors had arranged for him that allowed him to go, when their dad flatly refused to pay for his schooling. With all the effort he'd put into getting that education, there was no way he was going to flunk out because he was too busy partying.

o-o-o

Sam didn't regret his decision to abstain from partying… but he sure wished he had a drink right now. Dean had always said he was a lightweight and Sam felt his brother was exaggerating, but he'd take the label gladly if it meant he could lose himself right now. The pain was beginning to be excruciating, and he was feeling more tired than ever.

He glanced over at the mutt whose home he had apparently invaded and shook his head slightly. "So," he spoke aloud, causing the dog to raise its head from the ground where it lay and look at him curiously. "I take it this is _your_ home away from home?"

The dog whined as if to concur and Sam started to feel he'd been wrong about his assumptions on the beast's home after all. "I don't believe it…" Sam said to himself, leaning his head back against the wall, disrupting the wound and immediately wincing from the action. "I come all this way by myself… get myself trapped in a sewer, no way of contacting my brother, who I argued with about coming all this way… and there is no demon here in the first place," he finished with a bitter laugh.

Maybe Dean was the better hunter after all. Maybe those extra years had given him an edge that Sam, for all his smarts, could not match. Feeling regretful that he had not handled the argument between him and his brother better, Sam wondered if his brother was looking for him. He couldn't tell, since the phone had been damaged, whether or not Dean had called, but it had been hours and Dean would be wondering soon where his little brother was… right?

o-o-o

It had always been a bone of contention between the Winchester brothers regarding Sam's intelligence. He'd always been a bright and perceptive boy, something which Dean simply lacked when it came to book smarts. Dean may have been stronger, more quick-witted, and more loyal, but Sam had the brains, the know-how, and the compassion. He put his all into learning, and Dean just couldn't match his brother's enthusiasm.

This inherent difference was often a source of argument between the two in Sam's teenage years. It wasn't until he went away to college and studied psychology intensely that Sam perceived his brother's attitude to be borne more from jealousy, inferiority, and pride, than an actual utter disregard for education. Sam would never rub this in Dean's face, but knowing didn't stop him from retaining those smarts when he returned to the hunt with Dean a few months earlier.

Dean still seemed sore about it, but Sam knew it didn't make him better or worse than his brother. Some people just had the compassion for knowledge that others lacked, and Sam was one of the former. For now, he'd just have to take Dean's jibes at his being a 'college-boy' as a backhanded compliment, because he knew that deep down, past his own pride at not being able to keep up… Dean was extremely proud of his little brother.


	5. Boyfriend

**Labels**

**By Kara G**

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam thinks about who he's been and who he could have become while trapped in a drainage pipe alone during a storm.

Begun: February 9, 2006

Finished: May 30, 2006

**Boyfriend**

Because of his anti-partying attitude, Sam had found it hard to fit in at Stanford during his first year there. It wasn't until halfway through his sophomore year that he met Jessica, and everything changed for the better.

They met in the library. Sam had never had a class with her before, but he had recognized her from a speech she'd given on equality of women in the workplace at the beginning of the year, put on by a feminist group on campus. Sam's ancient sociology professor, Agnes Rickman, had forced her entire class to attend as a homework assignment. Sam's friend Ronnie, sitting next to Sam, slouched in a folding chair, couldn't help but point out the fruitlessness of the activity.

'Who benefits from listening to a bunch of lesbian hags spewing their man-hating propaganda?' he'd commented, eliciting a subtle grin from Sam, who'd seen enough of the Women's Studies group at Stanford to know they weren't the most pleasant co-curricular club on campus.

When Jessica had come up on stage, Sam hadn't been attracted right away, but when she started to speak—clearly, concisely, and for a surprising change, without a hint of bias to her tone—he'd stopped his commentating with Ronnie and listened, really hearing her words. Of course, it helped that she was also rather beautiful…

Even Ronnie quieted down to listen to Jessica's articulate speech, even though he'd spent the last half hour folding a sheet of paper into a triangular football and flicking it at the head of the jock in front of them.

Sam was left with a distinct impression after the presentation. When he saw Jessica at the library some weeks later, he approached her and told her how he remembered a lot from her speech. They got to talking and decided to put their studying on hold for some relaxation. After going out for coffee and hitting it off, they determined that they would go out again, on a real date. Somehow—through some combination of fate, that classic Winchester charm, and Sam's miraculous ability to attract women, Jessica agreed to continue seeing him.

Their relationship progressed slowly, but by the end of his sophomore year, Sam had survived the longest relationship he'd ever had. Unlike his last girlfriend, the first meeting with Jessica's parents went surprisingly well. He was adored by Jessica's parents, and her older brother too. Things were going well and for the first time in Sam's life and for as far back as he could remember, they only promised to get better.

o-o-o

"You don't happen to have any food, do you?" Sam asked the mutt, which was still hanging out nearby in the sewer, and immediately regretted the action when he realized he was talking to a _dog_.

It was getting harder and harder to stay awake, but he had hoped not to resort to discussion with another species. The water level had risen some and it took Sam some time to realize this. When he did, he started to panic.

_How long have I been _down_ here? _he thought fretfully, looking at his wristwatch. It was almost one in the morning and Sam had left Dean when it was still dusk out. He tried adjusting the rocks that trapped him again in hopes that the rising water had shifted them, but he found the attempt even more tedious than the first time, and the rocks still didn't budge.

His canine friend, still sitting and watching Sam from a higher perch above the water level, whined and stood at Sam's exasperated and pained groans. It moved toward the platform's edge as if testing the waters, then jumped in and paddled over to Sam. The mutt found its footing by Sam's side and stretched its neck out, tentatively licking the side of the young man's dirt-smudged cheek. Sam smiled despite himself and reached out to pet the mutt. He rested his arm on the dog's scruffy neck, scratching behind its ears and the dog panted, receiving the affection.

"I always wanted a dog when I was younger," Sam admitted to the mutt. "I only mentioned it a few times to Dad. He always gave me a lecture on why it was impossible to have a pet… Dean laughed at me the first time I asked, but Dad told me once years later that Dean asked him the same question about a dozen times when he was my age…"

As if sensing his momentary lapse into the upbeat, the rain above ground intensified, keeping up a steady dripping onto his shoulders. Sam rubbed his face with the back of his arm to clear his vision.

He looked at the dog once more, running a hand through the matted fur. "Boy, things really aren't going my way tonight, huh?"

o-o-o

Being in the steady relationship with Jess had made Sam a stronger person in ways he'd never expected. _Jess_ had made him a better person…

Before he'd met her, Sam had always felt he was missing something, but he didn't know what. Most kids knew exactly what they wanted when they left home for the first time. They wanted to have fun on their own, but they also wanted to meet the person that they would spend the rest of their lives with.

Most people had their parents as an example of the perfect relationship. If they didn't get it from them, they could get it from other relatives, friends, or the media.

Sam had never been one to examine relationships prior to meeting Jess. He had dated, but only because he thought he was supposed to, and he had been attracted to girls, but only out of that hormonal impulse present in every teenage boy. Having watched his father deny two decades of relationships with women in search of revenge for the _only_ woman he would ever love was one thing. Watching his other role model deny emotions as weaknesses and push women away as a defense only served to give Sam a misguided opinion on love. Who was _he_ to say what true love was when he'd never been witness to it himself?

But when he'd met Jess… Sam knew he had found it. He realized finally what he'd been missing all those years. After feeling misplaced for that first year away from Dad and Dean, Sam had finally felt he'd found some sort of _home_ by being with Jess. She made him feel secure, and strong, and loved, and he gave her all those things right back. Sam was a good boyfriend. He was an attentive boyfriend. One time, Jess had been upset because she was fighting with her best friend, Joy. They had had a disagreement over Joy's choice in men, and both had said some mean things to each other, but Jess hadn't told Sam any of this. She was often very private about her problems, afraid to open up.

Sam picked up on her distressed mood right away and in one evening planned a spontaneous dinner in one of the secluded courtyards that Jess had once told him she loved to go to when she needed to think. He'd brought a picnic: candles, food—he had even obtained a bottle of wine with some help from a senior friend, breaking his personal prohibition rule to set the mood…

It had gone perfectly. Jess almost cried when she saw what Sam had done for her. They had a romantic evening, and Jess admitted to Sam what was making her upset. She told him he had inspired her to call Joy and make up which she had done later that night through many tears on both ends.

Sam was glad he could make a difference in her life. Jess meant everything to him—he could already tell that after one year of dating. He knew right away that _this_ was the girl he could see himself ending up with. She was perfect…

… So of course that meant she had to be taken away from him.

Two and a half years later, Sam's fiancé was taken away from him in the same way his mother was taken away 22 years earlier, another good thing in his life gone just like all those precious memories he tried so hard to keep.


	6. Visionary

**Labels**

**By Kara G**

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam thinks about who he's been and who he could have become while trapped in a drainage pipe alone during a storm.

Begun: February 9, 2006

Finished: May 30, 2006

**Visionary**

When Sam had had the first vision about Jess's death just prior to its occurrence he hadn't believed it could be true…

And who could blame him? As real as the dreams were, he'd never had a vision before, didn't know that he or any one else was even _capable_ of having such vivid premonitions of life… how was he to know that it could actually come true?

When it _did_ come to fruition, Sam knew that his visions were not something to be taken lightly. And so, when they finally returned a few months later—now during his waking hours and not just in his dreams—Sam acted on them, dragging Dean back home to fight some spirit lingering in their old home. The visions didn't disappoint, leading him to save the family living in their old home _and_ have an encounter with his mother's spirit that still bewildered him weeks later, though he tried his best not to think about it.

The visions returned once more when the boys had met up with Max, the young man that seemed to have the same powers as Sam, though his had evolved. Sam, already terrified at the prospect of having visions, was really thrown for a loop after witnessing Max's breakdown and eventual suicide. To top things off, he had this new, telekinetic power he couldn't control and couldn't begin to explain.

Would he end up like Max? Going crazy and using his unexplained powers to kill who he pleased? Dean had assured him that he wouldn't—telling Sam that he wouldn't _let_ him end up like Max.

By his brother's words, Sam realized that because of Dean he'd been spared Max's fate… but none of those reassurances could explain to Sam exactly _what_ his visions were for… and what destiny Sam was truly meant to follow…

o-o-o

Sam felt movement at his side and was roused from his hazy reflections. He realized he was beginning to lose a sense of time, and feared he would give in to sleep soon. This wasn't a good thing, as Sam was pretty sure he had a concussion, but what choice did he have?

The movement he'd felt had been the mutt rising and moving away from him. It had been at his side for some time, providing some warmth which Sam was grateful for. If he had known as a child how loyal dogs could be, even to a complete stranger, he would have used it as a bargaining chip when approaching his dad about getting a dog all those years ago.

The water had risen, now, to mid-chest. One of Sam's arms was submerged, while the other had been resting on the dog's shoulders. But now the level was dangerously high for the mutt and it was struggling to keep itself afloat. Sam looked at it piteously and even in his tired mind he knew it couldn't stay there any longer or would drown…

"It's okay, buddy. You can go. I trespassed into your home anyway."

The dog gave a low, piteous whine and licked Sam's face once more before jumping into the water and swimming off to safety, once again leaving Sam by himself. Sam felt the despair stab at him suddenly and he felt sick. If the dog was close to drowning, it would only be a matter of time before…

_Where were those prophetic visions now?_

o-o-o

Dean had said once that Sam's visions seemed to come at convenient times. On the one hand, Sam had agreed with him—if it hadn't been for his vision of Dean's murder by Max's hands, his telekinesis might not have kicked in and he wouldn't have been able to save his own brother's life.

But then what about all the other people they tried to save, but failed? Where were the visions when children's lives were put in danger, or when their _own_ lives were imperiled? The visions were meant to save lives, but how were so many lives overlooked? Who even _decided_ what the visions depicted and whose life was worth saving?

Sam had so many questions that he was sure would never be answered. There was no one around to explain these things to him. They were a terror and a curiosity to him. He wondered what would have happened if he'd gained them earlier in life—would Jess still be alive?—and he wondered if maybe he _had_ had them earlier in life but couldn't remember. Did he have visions of his mother's death in his 6-month-old dreams?

Or better yet, did his _father_ have visions that he ignored, just like Sam had?

Sam just wasn't sure they were so convenient. If _anything_ in Sam's life acted on convenience, his mother and Jess would be alive. His dad wouldn't be missing. Sam wouldn't be trapped in a drainage pipe inches away from drowning… If there were benefits to these premonitions, Sam had yet to recognize them. So far they just confused and worried him, a plague to his already disorienting downward-spiral of a life… And until some explanation came along, he would just have to trust his instincts.

o-o-o

_Where are you Dean?_

Sam could no longer concentrate—on the rising water, on the pain of his injuries, on anything regarding his predicament—all he could think about was his brother.

Where _was_ he? Would he find Sam? He had always come to Sam's rescue in the past… superhero and big brother extraordinaire. He had never failed before, so he would show up soon, right?

The water was just a few inches below his neck… It was only a matter of time now before it overtook him. He'd fought demons, vengeful spirits and vicious werewolves, but now he was going to die _here_, sitting down, slowly and quietly wasting away.

If he was any more conscious of his situation, Sam would have recognized the irony but in those final moments before death all you can think about is how you led your life, and just as predicted, all Sam could think about was death.

Hoping the waters would be enough to wash away the blood on his hands, Sam had a fleeting memory of his brother before giving in to the numbing cold and the pervasive tug of sleep and slipping into unconsciousness.


	7. Brother

**Labels**

**By Kara G**

This is the last chapter. Thanks so much to everyone that reviewed. I really appreciate your comments. They're all so very encouraging and I hope some time this summer I get to more of my Supernatural story ideas so I can keep this up. It is such a very fun show to write about, and my current ideas aren't going away any time soon... Again, thanks and have a nice summer!

Rating: PG

Summary: Sam thinks about who he's been and who he could have become while trapped in a drainage pipe alone during a storm.

Begun: February 9, 2006

Finished: May 30, 2006

**Brother**

When Sam was nine years old, he went with his dad and brother on a hunt in Georgia to get rid of a poltergeist that was haunting an old power plant. The locals wanted to reopen the building, but they kept getting stalled by mysterious accidents that finally resulted in two unexplained deaths.

John Winchester hadn't wanted his youngest son to come this time, but the boy had been too afraid to wait in the hotel by himself, so begrudgingly he allowed Sam to come along—as long as he stayed with Dean and remained quiet.

Sam stayed quiet the whole time, but when the poltergeist discovered them there, it had raised quite a racket in the building. In the flurry of electrical explosions and blowing wind, Sam had been separated from his dad and brother. Covering his ears with both hands to staunch the poltergeist's agonized wailing, Sam had hid under a stairwell, crying for his brother and lo and behold… Dean found him. He found him under those stairs and saved him just like he always did. He pulled Sam's hands away, though Sam had protested, too afraid to hear the wailing of the ghost over the melee. He was frightened more than he'd ever been before, even when that monster lived in his closet… but when Dean took his little brother's hands in his own and told him that everything would be alright, Sam believed him.

"Everything will be okay, Sammy! Everything's going to be fine!" Dean had shouted over the noise.

"But how do you know!" Sam had shouted back.

Dean thought about this only a moment before a confident grin broke out on his face. "Because, Sammy… Because I'm your big brother, and I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you!"

And from that moment on, Sam knew that Dean would always be there for him whenever he needed him. Past everything, brothers will always be there for each other.

o-o-o

The water was up to his neck now, but Sam Winchester didn't feel a thing anymore as he let himself slip off into unconsciousness. Concussion be damned, none of it mattered if you were gonna drown a few minutes later anyway. At least this way he wouldn't have to feel it…

Feeling—touch, that was the first thing that had gone for him. Smell and taste became a blur to him after hours below ground. The stench of the musty sewer was overpowering and drowned out everything else. As he gave in to sleep, Sam closed his eyes and succumbed to darkness, leaving only the sounds around him to keep him stimulated. But even that was going too… Just before he fell asleep, Sam could swear he heard someone calling his name…

_Am I going crazy?_ Sam thought, opening his eyes once more to hazy surroundings. _Have I finally lost it? I've certainly got nothing left…_

"SAM!"

Sam wanted to return the call, to shout back to the person beckoning him but he scolded himself for it a moment later.

_There's _no one_ there, idiot… You're not about to start talking to ghosts now, are you Haley Joel?_

"SAM! SAMMY!"  
_Funny_… _It sounded kind of like Dean_…

"Dean…" Sam said aloud, but it came out barely above a whisper. It couldn't really be Dean, could it? After hours down there, Sam had lost all hope that it was even possible Dean _could_ find him. How would he even know where or when to _start_?

And yet… Sam mustered his strength to call out, louder now, "Dean… DEAN!"

"Sam?" The voice was closer now. Adjusting his vision, Sam roused himself and tried to find the source of the voices. Shadows danced on the walls again and Sam felt his hope rising. His spirits were lifted when he saw his canine friend return, running along the upper ledge and barking madly, and right on the dog's heels… Dean Winchester.

"Dean?" Sam said weakly, not sure if he could believe his eyes. By this point he was pretty sure the cold water had entirely robbed him of his senses, but there was no mistaking the incredibly real and worried look on Dean's face when he saw his little brother's predicament.

"Sammy, what the hell have you gotten yourself into now?" Dean climbed down from the ledge, landing with a splash in the water, which was up to his hips. He climbed up next to Sam and put a comforting hand on his shoulder that already made Sam feel warm and secure. "Jesus, Sammy…" Dean muttered.

Shivering violently, Sam stuttered, "… Never… thought I'd be h-happy to hear you c-call me that…" and smiled despite himself.

"So, you just hanging out down here, then?" Dean drawled sarcastically. "Thought you'd sub-lease the drainage pipe or something?"

"I'd th-thought about it… b-but the view is… l-less than desirable."

"What's hurt?" Dean said, getting down to business.

"My leg… it's stuck. I tried ge-getting it loose, b-but, I think it's broken. Also, I'm pretty sure I have a concussion. Don't know h-how long I blacked out."

"Okay, let's see what we got here… Dean reached into the murky water blindly, feeling around Sam's leg and tried tugging with his all his strength. He managed to shift a few rocks, but he stopped when Sam cried out in pain.

"You could feel that?" Dean asked.

"Of course I could!" Sam said, exasperated.

"Good," Dean said, continuing to feel around the area. "That's a good sign."

Sam rolled his eyes, less than enthused. "Peachy…"

After a moment, Dean looked his brother in the eye. "Look, I can move this big one that's pinning you down, but it's gonna hurt."

"Can't hurt any more than drowning."

"I hear that… okay. Brace yourself, little brother."

Sam steeled himself all he could, but it didn't stop him from feeling every movement of the boulder as Dean pushed with all his might to free him. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the weight that had for so long trapped him was lifted, and Sam was free. Dean gave him a moment to catch his breath before kneeling at his brother's side and slipping an arm around him under his shoulders.

"Listen, I know it hurts, but we gotta get the hell outta here," Dean said pulling Sam's hand over his shoulder, "or we're gonna be with the fishes real soon."

Managing the pain, Sam pushed himself up from the ground, resting most of his weight on Dean's shoulders. He hobbled alongside his brother back the way they'd come, noticing the dog was following them obediently. They made a few turns, only stopping to rest once before they found an opening that thankfully wasn't a ladder. Outside, not ten yards away, was the Impala.

"How did you find me?" Sam asked. "How did you even know where to look?"

"How do you think?" Dean said. "Lassie here led me to you."

"But I thought you were at the warehouse still… the demon—"

"Save it, Sammy. I realized after ten minutes there was nothing in that warehouse. I started to look for you, called you about a dozen times and started to get pretty worried when you didn't answer… So I came looking for you, found this entrance to the sewer and what's the first thing I see? Our buddy the lizard man trying to attack one pissed-off stray dog."

"You mean, youfound him?" Sam asked, hardly believing his ears.

"Living in the sewers all along. You were right. I killed the thing before it even saw me coming. You can save your I-told-you-so's, however, seeing as _I_ just saved _your_ ass.

"Actually, _Lassie_ did," Sam said as Dean opened the passenger door of the Impala and sat his brother down on the seat. The older brother walked around to the trunk of the car to retrieve the first aid kit and Sam whistled to the dog, which promptly came over and sat next to him. As Sam scratched the animal's ears, Dean returned.

"_No_… you can't keep him."

Sam smiled. "You sound like Dad." As if to accentuate the accusation, the dog barked at Dean, who narrowed his eyes and returned to his ministrations. He rummaged through the kit and threw a bottle of Aspirin to Sam. While his brother sat, Dean found a piece of gauze and cleaned his brother's head wound the best he could, but sighed after a moment.

"Looks like you're getting some stitches, Sam. Here, hold this to it and I'll drive. I think I saw a hospital a few miles back. They can set your leg while they're at it."

"_I can't wait_," Sam said, deadpan, then looked over to the mutt.

"What about him?"

"I am _not_ letting a dog into the Impala. I do _not_ need to clean dog hair off the seats tonight."

"But…" Sam did his best to put on a pouting face. "He—he saved my life…"

Dean, too distraught by the night's events, caved in much quicker than Sam had expected. "Fine… He can come. But I'm getting a blanket for him to sit on back there!"

Minutes later and the pair were on the road. Sam still wanted to sleep, but knew he had to wait until he got checked out at the hospital. Instead he opted to get something off his mind that had been plaguing him for hours.

"Dean?"

Dean looked over at his brother before returning his eyes to the road. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

Looking at him perplexedly, Dean scrunched his face. "For _what_?"

"For earlier tonight—for our argument…"

"Sammy, I don't even remember what we were fighting about," Dean said honestly.

Sam laughed and ran a hand through his matted hair. "Yeah, me neither, actually… I guess I just wanted to say that… that I'm really grateful for having you with me—you've always been there for me, and you've never let me down… And I want to say thank—"

"Look, I don't know what went through your concussion-addled brain down there but so help me God if you turn this into a chick-flick moment I'm going to turn this car around and take you right back."

"Yeah," Sam chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "That sounds about right."

o-o-o

Sam had spent two decades of his life regretting the things he was and wishing to be the person he never could be. Labels came and went for him, often much more quickly and violently that Sam could handle. A lot more people left Sam's life than came into it, but at least one person was always with him.

When his mother died, Dean put Sam to bed at night, held his hand when he was afraid or hurt, and covered each wound with a band-aid. When his father disappeared, Dean came to get Sam's help. When Jess died, Dean was there to rescue him from the same fiery demise and offer support. The visions weren't always there for Sam, but Dean _was_. When everything else abandons him, Sam will still be Dean's little brother.

Maybe one day Sam will be a father, a husband, a _lawyer _even, God willing. Maybe it will last and maybe it won't but either way there will still be one person who will always be there to support him if things fall apart. Even if all the other labels don't last, Sam and Dean will always be brothers.


End file.
